The Edge of Madness
by Endellion
Summary: After being captured by the Twins, Murtagh is taken to Galbatorix's palace and tortured. While recovering, he is put under the care of a mysterious healer. Takes place during the second book. Epilogue added.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wrote this story about...wow, almost four years ago. It's been sitting on my computer for a while, so I figured I should post it. For being written that long ago, I was amazingly proud of it. There was nothing too weird that a little tweaking couldn't fix.**

**Basically, I was getting tired of all the stories where Murtagh meets this girl in the palace, he's all sweet and nice, and they become friends and blah blah blah...so I decided to write my own. This is not a romance story, and I am fairly confident that my OC is not a Mary Sue. **

**So, I hope you like it.**

**Btw, I owe my sister for this story's epic name. I never would have thought of it on my own. ;) And I'll quit rambling now. Enjoy...**

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**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter One**

He kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, his legs slightly apart. His fists were curled so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes were screwed shut, as sweat slowly trickled down his forehead. He tried his best to keep the strong wall around his mind stable, but he could feel it slowly being worn away by the Twins' attacks. There was an unbearable pain in his head, applying massive amounts of pressure, crushing his defenses.

There was no thought in his mind, only the will to keep the wall up-to keep the Twins from getting into his thoughts. His face twisted as his strength weakened. He could feel the cold clammy fingers of the Twin's thoughts scraping at his wall. There were almost through, and he could feel it. He could feel his body growing numb, as the effects of his wounds took their toll. He could feel his warm blood dripping down his side and to his thigh, but he tried to ignore it. No physical pain could be worse than that of having his mind vulnerable.

Tears slowly dripped from his eyes, as he felt a cold finger prick his thoughts.

He let out an agonizing scream, as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The wall had been broken, and the Twins swam through his thoughts and memories, bringing back things he wished to keep secret and hidden. But now they could see it all; his mind was naked to their eyes.

Memories and images flashed through his mind. He saw his mother, his father, Eragon and Saphira, the elf Arya, Nasuada-anyone he had ever seen. The Twins delved deeper into his thoughts, tearing up all the things he had ever forgotten, thrusting them back into his memory. He could keep nothing from them.

He wanted to scream for them to stop, but he could form no words over his pain. He fell to the floor, as everything he ever was, was thrown into the open, and disheveled.

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She stepped through the halls of the castle in Uru'baen. Surrounding her were four guards, all garbed in the armor and uniforms of Galbatorix's men. Her glance momentarily passed over all them, but none of them returned her gaze.

For the better, she decided.

She returned her gaze forward, and continued to walk the deserted, dark path of the halls they were now in. She rarely came here, and she hated it every time she had to. It was rather unsettling, although she wasn't sure why.

The four guards, along with herself, all stopped in front of a large door. She gazed upon it silently, as she heard the disturbing screams and shouts that were coming from inside. The only thing she recognized was Galbatorix's disturbingly powerful voice. She tensed as she heard his footsteps moving closer to the door.

The large and heavy doors swung open and Galbatorix walked through, bearing his powerful and terrible presence. She immediately bowed to him and stepped aside to clear his path. But he didn't walk passed her. He stopped at her side.

She hesitantly looked up at him.

"Zuriel," the king spoke, without any emotion in his voice. His eyes gazed at her for a second, then he finished with, "Make sure he's well again. I'm not yet finished with him."

"As you wish, your majesty," she returned, continuing to bow as he walked past her. Following him closely were the bald twins, wearing superior looks on their faces. Truthfully, they disgusted her. They were nothing in comparison to the king. At least she had respect for Galbatorix; the Twins could never get that from her.

As soon as the three of them had passed, she entered the room. The guards followed after, breaking their formation as they gathered around. This room was a cell in the dungeon, with no windows and bare of everything, even a bed. It was lit by a few torches, casting the only light in the dismal room. All the guards were silent as they gaped down at man on the floor, who was curled up in a ball and murmuring something incomprehensible.

She gazed down at the young man for a moment, noticing all the wounds that were inflicted on his body. She let out a painful breath, as she looked away from his disheveled form and turned to one of the guards. "Take him up stairs," she ordered him. The guard acknowledged her, then he and another proceeded to lift the man up off the floor.

"Where'd you go, mother?" he murmured, as the guards carried him out of the room. Zuriel slowly followed behind them, shutting the door as she stepped out.

She walked to the head of the line, then said. "Follow me."

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**A/N: Like it? Dislike it? Please review and tell what you think. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The first chapter just seemed way too short to stand on its own, so I thought I'd post chapter two as well.**

**Enjoy.**

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Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.

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**Chapter Two**

_He was lost. He drifted through memories like he was swimming through water. He was surrounded by all the people he had every seen, hearing everything they had ever said to him. He drifted through all the places he had visited, unable to understand all that was going on around him. _

_He could hear the soft whispers of his mother's voice, as she held him in her arms, singing to him with her gentle voice. He watched as if he were there again, but he slowly drifted by, passing into another memory._

_He saw his father, sitting down, an angered look on his face. He stared at him for a moment, then dared to run passed him. All he felt was a flash of pain, before he drifted by again._

_He sat at an extravagant dinner table, staring nervously at Galbatorix, who looked back at him silently, not even touching the plate that was in front of him. He slowly ate his food, then he was ripped away again._

_He wrestled around with Eragon, pounding on him as they fought with each other. It was like he was there all over again, and had just insulted his friend. They were a tangled mess, until he felt a strong arm bearing down on him, and he was smashed down to the ground . . . _

_He stood up from his bed, dumb-founded as he found himself face-to-face with the fairest woman he had ever seen. She was adorned in the most beautiful dress, and the way she carried herself told him she was of royalty. He bowed to her nervously, then looked up again to see a look of amusement on her face. He lightly smiled, then she was gone in a flash._

_He was suspended in his memories, floating through them with nothing to hang on to-Nothing to tell him who he was and why he was there. He was engulfed in darkness, floating around in the emptiness of his mind._

_"Murtagh . . ." a voice called his name. "Murtagh, hear and answer me."_

_"Who are you?" he asked, afraid of the voice._

_"I am here to help you," it returned. "Come back to your sanity."_

_"How?" he echoed, hearing the voice growing more and more distant. He didn't want to be alone again. "Help me!"_

_"Follow my voice . . . "_

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Murtagh slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of the room he was now in. He suddenly felt afraid, as he realized he was still in Galbatorix's castle. He was laying down on a bed, which was located directly under an open window. The air in the room was briskly cold because of it. He pulled the blanket tighter over himself. It had been there only to conceal his lack of clothing, so it wasn't very thick, and didn't do him much good.

As he moved, he noticed the bandages that were around his torso and arms.

He turned over, gazing over the room he was now in. It definitely wasn't the dungeon. It was fully furnished with a desk, the comfortable bed of course, a wardrobe, and a thick carpet over the floor. He didn't think that this room was for him, since there was obviously someone else's belongings inside. Many different bottles of medicines and potions were on the desk.

He also didn't think Galbatorix would give him some place so comfortable.

He wondered who all the bottles belonged to, and he got his answer when a woman entered the room.

She was tall, dressed in black clothing-a leather corset over a long dress, which fell to the floor passed her feet. Her long auburn hair was pulled back from her face, revealing her strong features. She looked about twenty years his elder, and a touch of gray was at her roots. Her dark brown eyes gazed at him, showing nothing of emotion as she approached his bed. He was unable to speak as she placed her slender hand on his brow, brushing back his scraggily hair.

"Are you better?" she asked him in a smooth voice.

He wasn't sure how to answer her. He didn't hurt anywhere on his body, but inside he still felt pain. He felt pain because he could still remember all that had happened to him, and all the memories that had been stirred up and thrown out into the open. "Better," he answered carefully. "but not well."

A small smile touched the corner of her dark pink lips. She reached out and took the top of his blanket from his hands, lowering it to expose his bandaged ribs. She placed her other hand behind his neck. "Sit up," she ordered, but not roughly. He immediately complied, pushing himself up to find that he felt no pain.

"Where am I?" he asked, as she started to unravel the bandage from his chest.

"You're still in the palace," she said, not looking away from his wound. He stayed silent as she completely removed the bandage, showing no evidence that he had ever been wounded. Not even a scar was left, which surprised him. It was such a terrible wound.

"Who are you?" he asked, as she ran her fingers over his ribs.

"I am Zuriel, the healer," she answered, then she smiled. "and you're lucky I'm as good as I am, or you'd be left with a nasty scar."

He felt a little relieved that she had some joy to her, unlike the other people he had seen in Galbatorix's court, who were all proper and stiff.

"Your ribs were broken," she continued, as she looked away from his chest and to his left arm. "As was your arm. You've been out for two days."

He was surprised by her remark, feeling like he had slept for only a few hours.

She took the bandage off his arm, and he stretched it. She said nothing more to him before she walked away, throwing away the bandages. Murtagh watched her carefully as she organized some of the bottles on the desk.

"Were you the voice in my head?" he asked. Zuriel looked back toward him, her face showing no emotion again.

"Yes," she simply answered. "The Twins' breaking of your mind flung you from your sanity. I fear even now you are not entirely stable."

Murtagh looked away as she said that, unsure what to think. His every thought and secret was exposed to the Twins-how could that not fling him into insanity? Now it was even worse to him, knowing that this woman had also been in his head, searching around his memories.

"Galbatorix wished to see you once you were well," she said, her back still turned toward him.

Her words struck fear in his heart. He didn't want to see Galbatorix again. He would only hurt him again, then delve deeper and deeper into his thoughts and dig out anything he could about him. The fear of being exposed again scared him. "I'm not well," he argued, his voice wavering as tears tightened his throat. He hardly ever cried, but now it felt like he couldn't keep the tears away.

"Can you walk?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he said, looking away from her as he suddenly felt embarrassed. "Perhaps."

"If you can walk, you're well enough to see the king. You'll go to him tonight."

His breathing increased rapidly as he started to panic. Tears started falling from his eyes, faster than he could wipe them away. He was more afraid than he had ever felt in his life, and now he was crying. Any time before, no one would have seen his tears. But he couldn't stop himself now, even with the healer in the room. He felt like a child again, crying whenever he was afraid.

A soft hand was laid on his shoulder, but before the comforting touch could do him any good, he knocked Zuriel's hand away. She recoiled, reverting to her solemn demeanor.

"It may be a while before you return to the way you once were," she softly said to him. "I will continue to see you until you are . . . stable again." There was a pause before she continued in a firmer voice.

"I'll get you some food and clothes."

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well I got no reviews for the last chapters, but I got a couple favorites. So I know at least two people like this story. Thanks. XD Yeah, not much else to say. The amount of typos I found in this chapter was ridiculous. Hopefully I got them all...**

**Anyway, enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Three**

Murtagh sat up on his bed. He stared numbly at the floor, moving his fingers together. Zuriel had gotten him some food, then left him to get dressed. Hours had passed and she had not returned. It was night now and he was growing more afraid as the minutes passed by. He knew that the guards would be there for him any minute, and they would take him to the throne room, by force if they had to.

Before she left, Zuriel had told him not to fight them and to tell the king all he wanted to know, so that he would not be hurt again. But he knew he couldn't cooperate with Galbatorix. He knew it was inevitable that he would need Zuriel's skill by the end of the night.

The doors of the bedroom flung open, as two guards stepped inside. They both wore hard faces and looked like strong, capable men. He knew Galbatorix would send nothing less, since he no doubt knew what Murtagh was capable of.

"You are to come with us," one of the guards spoke, placing his hand on his sword hilt. "His majesty wishes to see you."

Murtagh stared at them for a moment longer, then slowly pushed himself off the bed. He walked up to the two guards, then the three of them exited the room. He walked between them, as they led him through the long halls and endless flights of stairs, until they came to the large doors of the throne room. Murtagh gazed at them with dread as they were slowly pulled open. He looked inside the vast room, the throne immediately catching his eyes. Galbatorix sat upon it, one of the twins on either side of him.

All three pairs of eyes were on him, as the guards roughly pushed him inside.

"Leave us," Galbatorix ordered, and the guards left, shutting the doors behind them. Murtagh was trapped inside, with no way to escape.

He looked at the king, feeling small as the ancient man stared down at him with unreadable eyes. The Twins bore the same self-righteous look they always had, looking down on him as if they ruled instead. Murtagh felt nervous standing there, knowing what was bound to happen to him. No matter how long Galbatorix waited, he was going to start questioning him. That was the one thing he feared.

"So Murtagh," the king started, leaning forward on his chair, placing his palms together. "I wanted to ask you a few more questions. You left so much unanswered the last time we spoke." Galbatorix rose from his throne, taking powerful strides as he stepped down the stairs, making his way closer to him. The Twins were following close behind.

Murtagh stood his ground as the king stepped in front of him, a smile curling his lips. Galbatorix's hateful eyes bored into him, as he held his gaze for what felt like forever. "I want you to tell me everything you know about Eragon and Saphira."

Murtagh wasn't surprised by the question and stayed silent.

"So, you aren't going to cooperate," the king said, stepping to the side and beginning to circle around him. "I assumed we would have to resort certain measures." He thrust his hand toward him, spitting out words in the ancient language. Murtagh was caught with an invisible hand and thrown towards the floor. His back slammed against the cold stones, pain shooting through his entire body. He writhed as the hand grasped tighter on him, crushing his body with a terrible force.

The Twins also circled about, quietly laughing at his pain. Three different forces all bore down on his mind, as he tried so hard to put up his defenses. But he was no match for their power, and Galbatorix was soon swimming through his mind.

Murtagh screamed as he felt pain from inside, pulling on his lungs and heart, racking his entire body. He squirmed and arched as the pain resonated through him-as the cold nails dug at his thoughts. Again he was unveiled and vulnerable, his mind being explored by the three people he hated most. His eyes dripped tears, as every memory he had with Eragon poured back to him.

He remembered the first time he had seen him unconscious, when Saphira wouldn't let him near him; he remembered when he first found out he carried Zar'roc; when they fought with one another; every time they sparred; when he told Eragon who he was; when they reached the Varden; every conversation they ever had; the weeks they had traveled together-it was all being fed to Galbatorix, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, Galbatorix withdrew from his mind, but the pain still pulsed through his body. His screams were reduced to whimpers, as Galbatorix stepped even closer to him. The king slammed his heavy boot into his side, bearing down upon his ribs with incredible strength. There was a faint cracking noise as they broke yet again. He coward into a ball, holding his chest as the dark king kicked him once more.

Pain ran all the way down his body, as he screamed out in agony. Murtagh tumbled over from the blow, his face smacking against the cold floor, blood dripping from his nose and busted lip. Tears ran down his face, as he silently cried out for the beatings to stop.

Galbatorix heavy footsteps approached him yet again, and he braced himself for another blow. But instead, the king slowly crouched down beside him, placing his hand on his shoulder. Murtagh flinched from his touch, then darkly looked up at the man as he placed his palm on his chest. "Did Eragon ever tell you the name of his mother?"

Murtagh was surprised by his question, but he didn't speak. Even if he wanted to, the pain in his jaw probably wouldn't have let him.

"The Twins found it out while they were scavenging through his memories," Galbatorix spoke in a soft and smooth tone. His fingernail slowly cut at the fabric of Murtagh's new shirt, which was now covered in blood. "Her name was . . . Selena."

Shock was apparent in Murtagh's eyes, as he looked at the king with confusion and disbelief.

"Selena," Galbatorix's said. "Was that not the name of your late mother?"

"It can't be," Murtagh whispered.

"It's true," the king boomed, standing back up again, towering over him and gazing down at his broken form. "She left him when he was born, sixteen years ago, not long after you got that scar. She obviously didn't want your father to know about him, so she left him with her brother. Soon after, she died," he paused for a second. "It all adds up."

Murtagh continued to stare up at him, speechless as he took it all in. A smug smile crossed the king's face, as he turned his attention to the doors. "Guards!" he screamed. The doors immediately swung open. The two guards stood at the entrance, ready for their orders from him. "Take him back to his room," he king said, then looked back down at Murtagh. "and make sure he stays there."

"Yes sire," the guard said, he and his counterpart immediately walking up to the beaten man. They roughly grabbed Murtagh by his arms, yanking him from the floor. He screamed from the pain that ran through him. He couldn't keep standing, and immediately fell forward, being reminded cruelly of his broken ribs. The guards dragged him out of the room regardless, not caring about the pain he felt.

It was a long walk from the throne room.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay! I finally got some reviews. Thank you! And thanks to everyone else who added this story to their favorites. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Four**

He laid flat on the bed, taking in short, rough breaths, and nearly screaming every time he did so. The expanding of his lungs was pushing against his broken ribs, giving him rushes of pain each time. He couldn't move without hurting himself, and the time slowly ticked by as he waited for Zuriel to come to his room.

She had left everything there, so he wondered what was taking her so long. He was angry, and hurt. Tears continued to run down his face and block his throat, making it all the more hard for him to breathe properly. He wanted the healer there. He wasn't particularly fond of her, but he was wise enough to know that she was the only one who could and would heal him.

Much to his relief, the doors flung open. He turned his gaze and saw Zuriel rushing up to him, quickly gazing over his broken body. He couldn't speak to her, only made short gasps that told her he needed her help, quickly. She immediately went over to her table and grabbed the many bandages and medicine that she needed. He quickly cut his shirt off him and began to wipe the blood from the major wound, which was identical to his last.

Pain fogged his mind as Zuriel quickly tried to heal him. But most of the pain he felt was coming from within, from when Galbatorix used magic on his body. He hurt in places he knew Zuriel could never heal, and he didn't know how the pain wound ever go away. He was slowly slipping to the point of unconsciousness, when he faintly heard Zuriel speaking.

He couldn't understand what she was saying, but he was surprised when he felt the pain on his ribs vanish. He took deep breaths now, relieved when he felt no pain. His ribs were healed. He had so many questions, but he still wasn't well enough to ask them.

She moved away from his ribs, looming over him so that he could now see her. She placed her hand behind his neck. "Easy," she said, as she lifted his head to the pillow, then let him lay back down. He swallowed hard, as she grabbed a wet rag and began to wipe his face clean of the blood and tears.

He had stopped bleeding by now, but the tears kept falling. After she had finished with his face, she reached over and grabbed a clear vial, which had a red liquid inside. She lifted his head with her arm, then placed the medicine against his lips. He trusted her enough to drink it down, figuring it couldn't possibly make him any worse than he already was.

The warm liquid went down his throat, warming him all over and sending soothing chills over his body. Almost immediately, the painful affects of Galbatorix's magic had gone away. He let out a relieved breath, as he let his head fall back into the pillow, a small smile crossing his lips.

"Is that better?" Zuriel asked.

"Yes," he breathed, his throat still feeling the liquid in it.

"Good," she said, warmly smiling as she gathered up her medicines, walking back to the table to replace them there.

"Are you . . . a magician?" he asked, over his heavy breathing.

"Yes," she answered, looking back at him with a serious face. "But I only use magic to heal. That is all I am: a healer."

She walked back over to him, going to his feet and beginning to remove his boots. He gladly let her, not feeling capable enough of doing it himself, in his current condition. She placed his boots beside the bed, then went to remove his pants. He didn't feel very comfortable with her undressing him, but he knew she couldn't leave him in the blood-stained clothes. He kept his gaze away for her, as she quickly removed his pants and cast them aside.

She grabbed a blanket and laid it over his body. This one was thicker than the last, and for that, he was grateful. She pulled it up to his chin, and he turned to her, gazing at her expressionless face. As she loomed over him, he realized how safe he felt having her near to him. She was his healer, and no matter how many times Galbatorix may torture him, she would always be there to help him. He felt relieved in this knowledge, and couldn't keep a small smile from touching his lips. She noticed this and softly returned it, before pulling away from him again.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," she returned, picking up his ruined clothes from the floor. She place them in a basket, where the servants would come to take them away later. She then turned and headed for the door.

"Wait!" he called, once he realized she was leaving. She turned to him with a confused expression, as he sat up in bed. He couldn't keep his eyes on her for more than a second, as she stared back at him with her wise eyes. He suddenly felt embarrassed.

She slowly walked back over to him, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. "What is it?" she asked gently.

He forced himself to look back at her. "Could you . . . stay with me for while?" he asked, feeling all the more pathetic that he had continued, dropping his gaze again.

He heard a soft laugh coming from her throat, as she placed her soft fingers under his chin. She forced him to look up at her, and he was greeted by her motherly smile. "Of course." She reached over and grabbed a chair from the desk, pulling it closer to the bed. She sat down on it and gathered her flowing robes about herself like a blanket. "Would you like to talk?"

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Zuriel slowly stepped inside, as the wide doors of the throne room opened. She was nervous - as she always was when she faced Galbatorix - but she managed to hide it. She walked with her confident strides as she made it to the center of the large room, then bowed down to the king, who sat upon his throne, gazing down at her.

"Zuriel," he started, giving her permission to look up at him. She slowly did so. She used all her strength to keep her eyes focused on his, which drove fear into the strongest of people. "How is Morzan's son?"

Zuriel took in a deep breath, before answering. "That is why I'm here, sire."

"Can you not heal him, or do I need to replace you?" Galbatorix quickly asked, looking away from her to absently study the mark on his hand.

"He heals well, your majesty," she quickly responded, looking down for a second, then back up at him, finding new determination. "But I wonder how many times I must heal him."

"Do you tire of your work?"

"No, sire, it's just that I have already tended him twice, and both times he was wounded badly. I only ask how many times you intend to punish him before he finally dies from your beatings? His body can only take so much."

"I will punish him however many times I please!" the king shot, shifting his gaze quickly back to her. He stood up in his throne, gazing down upon the woman. "He abused the protection I gave him and had the audacity to join my enemies!" he stepped closer to her, and apprehension filled her as he drew nearer. "I will punish that bastard as many times as I feel necessary, do you understand me?" He was now a few inches away from her, shouting the last words in her face.

"Yes, sire," she said, bowing her head.

He placed his hand around her neck, threatening to clench her throat. "And if you ever question my judgment again, Zuriel, I will replace you . . . permanently."

"Yes, sire," she said again, her voice quivering. He let his hand fall.

"Leave my sight," he said, turning back and walking to his throne.

"Yes, your majesty," she bowed, then turned and left the throne room.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't know why I was so lazy with this. This chapter was supposed to be up 3 days ago. -_-**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Five**

Murtagh sat upon his bed, fully dressed. The covers were still unmade beneath him, as the open window let in the soft breeze of Uru'baen. He stared out into the open sky, knowing how high

his room was from the ground. He guessed he was put there so he wouldn't have the chance to try and escape, unless he had a suicide wish.

His thoughts wandered, as he sat in his room. He was still pained from what he had endured under Galbatorix's magic, and he could still feel a slight throbbing from inside his body. All the stirred-up memories were still floating around in his head, mostly those of Eragon. He still couldn't fathom the truth that he was his brother. Of course, it all made sense, he just never thought the possibility of them meeting each other could come true.

What were the odds that he would meet his own sibling, who would have a dragon just like their father? But he knew Eragon was the farthest thing from Morzan that there could ever be.

Zuriel was absent from the room, and he slowly waited for her return. He felt better when she was there, knowing he wasn't alone. He also felt a strange protection from her in which he couldn't understand. She almost made him feel safe.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Zuriel silently stepped in. She was garbed as she usually was, with the black robes. But this time wore a burgundy corset. He thought the touch of color was quite becoming on her, and stared at her with a strange interest, before pushing it back a second later. She gazed down at her feet for a moment, looking as if she were contemplating something.

She looked up at Murtagh, then smiled weakly as she shut the door behind her.

She said nothing as she removed the cloak from her shoulders, then placed it over the back of a chair. He watched her silently as she walked closer to him, sitting across from him on the edge of the bed. She stared at him with her dark brown eyes for a moment, then brushed his cleaned hair away from his eyes.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He turned his head away from her, but she took his chin in her fingers and made him look back at her.

"We need to do this, Murtagh," she advised. "you're . . ."

"Unstable?" he finished for her, his voice loud and angered. "I'm only unstable because he's been prodding around in my mind!"

"Murtagh, this will help you," she said in a softer tone.

"How?" he asked, throwing her hand away from his face. "By having another person fishing through my memories?"

"I won't be 'fishing.' I won't go into anything you don't want me to. I'm going to try and help you make sense of all that's been torn up."

He stared at her a second longer, his eyes full of anger. But she knew that anger wasn't purposefully directed at her.

He turned his head to the ground and began to take in deep, heavy breaths. She scooted closer to him, sitting beside him so that her leg was up against his. She placed her hand on his face, slowly turning it back so that he was facing her again. Tears were building in his eyes.

"What will you tell Galbatorix?" he asked bitterly.

"He already knows everything about you," she said. "There is nothing I could tell him."

"What if there were, would you?"

She waited a moment, then said. "I would not want to."

His gaze asked her to elaborate.

"Even you couldn't resist his power, how could you expect me to? I can't keep anything secret from him. But if I had the choice to, I would." She looked away for a second, silent as she seemed unsure of what she had just said. "I never like seeing anyone hurt," she added softly, looking back to him.

He looked her in the eyes, watching his reflection staring back at him. She saw the pain in his eyes, and the tears that were always there, always threatening to come out. She reached out for him, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. He buried his face in her neck, as he began to softly cry.

He also wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her like a child would his mother. And he felt like a child again.

"Shh," she soothed him, as she ran her hand over his hair, caressing him in a tender way. She held him in her arms for a few minutes, before she gently pushed him back. He wiped his tears and tried to quell his emotions.

"Are you ready?" she asked again.

He slowly nodded, knowing it was for the better. He figured if he had the choice of anyone entering his mind, it would have been her.

"Just relax," she said quietly. "And don't fight it."

He closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths as he prepared himself for what she was about to do. He resolved that he wouldn't try to hide anything from her and he wouldn't try to block her out. He knew he needed it if he wanted to return to his complete sanity.

Zuriel softly placed her hands on the sides of his face, her palms pressing against his ears. She closed her eyes as well, as she softly spoke the words that allowed her into his thoughts.

He immediately felt her enter his mind, and he fought the instinct to block her out. He winced for a moment, as she started going through the memories that were fresh in his mind: mostly those of Eragon. She continued onward, searching through the rest of his mind and piecing together all the things Galbatorix had torn up. His memories were like a puzzle, thrown in a pile that had to be carefully replaced, or they would be like that forever.

He was aware of her as she continued further, pushing back to months earlier. He was reliving the daring escape he had managed with his friend Tornac, who had been killed in the process. He felt a rush of emotion as the memory replayed. He felt the rage and sadness, but before tears could escape, the two of them were moving back even further.

They traveled through his years as a teenager, which he had spent in that very castle. She went through all of his memories, placing everything back together. He followed beside her, as if holding her hand in the disheveled void. They moved further, and he was younger. It was his tenth birthday, which he had spent alone. He hadn't even bothered mentioning it to the servants, who he had enjoyed pointlessly talking to. The painful memory struck his heart. He could hear Zuriel in his head telling him to stay calm and fight back his emotions, and her steady words were enough to keep him still.

They were going further and further back. They traveled through the endless memories of his childhood, placing back everything that was broken and missing. He tried not to dwell too much on them, knowing there were reasons he had forgotten most of them.

They kept going. They swam all the way back to when he was three. He was standing beside his mother, who was ill and dying. Tears poured out from his eyelids as he relived that memory, and Zuriel didn't speak to him. He felt relieved she had allowed him to feel this one.

They went further still. He was standing in the window of his house, waiting for his mother and father to come back and visit him again . . . his mother mostly. They went deeper in, and a rush of pain suddenly climbed up his back, tracing the scar. He let out a sort cry of pain as he relived the day he had gotten that mark, and he could almost swear he was bleeding. But he continued through the memory, going forward for once. He was in his mother's arms, a bandage around back, over the healing wound his father had given him.

_"It will heal," he could hear the familiar voice speaking behind him._

_"Thank you," his mother returned and she slowly rocked him back and forth. He gazed up at her face, then turned to the other woman who now came into his view. She was about the age of his mother, with long auburn hair. A smile was across her lips as she placed a hand on his hair._

_"You'll be alright, Murtagh," said the woman, who he now realized . . . was Zuriel._

Murtagh grabbed Zuriel's hands and yanked them from his face. He opened his eyes and gazed at the woman. His mouth was open in awe as he stared at her. She looked back at him for a second, before she let out a deep sigh, then suddenly fell forward into his arms. She had clearly exhausted herself from the amount of energy she had used for the magic.

He cradled her in his arms, taking her beneath the back and knees, laying her down beside him on the bed.

"You healed me when I got the scar," he said, barely in a whisper.

A smile crossed Zuriel's lips, even as she kept her eyes closed. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. "I did. I was a close friend of your mother's. Probably the only one."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would I have said to you?"

"Anything," he said, now looking at her in an entirely different manner. "I . . ." he faltered when he couldn't think of the right words to say.

Zuriel let out a weak laugh. "It doesn't matter now." She opened her eyes again, gazing around the room for a moment. "I should go now and get some rest."

"No!" Murtagh protested, placing strong hand on her arm to keep her from moving. "Stay here."

"I would be . . . quite inappropriate," he could barely hear the words as she spoke, her exhaustion taking over.

"It doesn't matter. You couldn't even make it out of this room without passing out."

She didn't respond. She breathed deeply and steadily, finally falling asleep. A smile crossed Murtagh's lips, as he laid his head on his pillow, gazing at her face as she slept. He watched Zuriel for a long time, contemplating his many thoughts about her.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Enjoy...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its charcters.**

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**Chapter Six**

The next morning, Murtagh awoke to find that Zuriel was no longer in his bed. He wished she were still there, but didn't think much of the subject as he rose from the bed. He quickly changed into some fresh clothing, then ate the breakfast one of the servants brought for him. Afterward he laid back down on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling as he fell into deep thought, knowing there was nothing better for him to do.

Almost an hour had gone by, and he was wishing for Zuriel to come back to him. But she never did, and he was soon greeted by someone else entering the room. Two guards swung open his door, and stood there with the same faces they always wore. Murtagh regretted seeing them again.

"His majesty wishes to see you," one of the guards informed in his firm voice. Murtagh silently slid himself off of his bed, then followed the two of them out of the room. Again, the they took the long walk to the throne room. Murtagh only hoped that this time he would be able to walk out on his own.

They eventually came to the throne room doors, and the guards pulled them open. He entered slowly, being greeted by the same sight he had the last time, only now the Twins were absent. And this time, there was a table in the center of the room, with two wrapped up objects on it. He wondered what they were, but turned his attention away from them as Galbatorix rose from his throne and began his descent toward him.

"Are you well, Morzanson?" Galbatorix asked as he slowly turned to the table.

Murtagh shrugged. "More or less."

A small smile crossed the kings lips, as he placed his hands on the table, then rested his weight against it. "I am sorry for how our last meeting ended. You'll have to forgive me for my short temper, but you know I have to do what I must." Murtagh heard the tone of sarcasm in his voice.

"Of course," he returned similarly.

The King extended his hand and gestured for him to come closer to the table. Murtagh was unsure if he should do so, but decided to in the end. He walked within a foot of the table and gazed back at the two covered objects. Galbatorix said nothing as he slowly uncovered one, revealing it to be a large, oval-shaped stone. Murtagh stared in awe at the brilliant green color. He wondered what it was, yet didn't ask. The king placed his palm on it, then lifted it with his one hand, extending it toward him.

"Touch it," the king said calmly.

Murtagh said nothing, just stared at him in confusion.

"Touch it," the king repeated, no change in his tone.

Still greatly confused, Murtagh lightly ran his fingers over the smooth stone. He only let his fingertips touch it, as if afraid of what it would feel like. Then he ran his entire palm over it. He looked back at Galbatorix as he withdrew his hand.

The king made no expression as he placed the stone back on the table.A few silent seconds passed, before he uncovered the second object. This one was an identical stone, but it was a fiery red color. The brilliance of it seemed to ignite something in Murtagh's eyes, as the king picked it up and held it out to him.

He slowly ran his hand over it, like he had with the other one. It felt the same as the last, yet he held his touch longer, before he let his hand fall again. A disappointed look seemed to cover the king's face, as he placed the stone back down on the table. He quickly threw the cover back over it, as he said harshly, "You may go."

Still quite confused, Murtagh turned to leave. He was more than glad to leave Galbatorix's sight willingly, yet he felt like he had just missed something. He was nearly to the door, when I short, high-pitched squeal echoed through the room. Curious, he stopped in his tracks and turned around. He looked at the king to find him staring at him.

"Wait," Galbatorix ordered as he walked back to the table and pulled the covers off the stones. Murtagh went to the table again, still wondering what was exactly going on. He stood silently as he waited for the king to say something.

A second later, another squeal was heard. Murtagh's gaze shifted down to the stones, as he was almost positive the noise was coming from one of them. More squeaking followed, rapidly happening one after another. He was startled when one final, loud screech rang out, then died away in the echoes. Horror showed on his face, as he looked back up at Galbatorix, who wore a satisfied smile.

Murtagh suddenly looked back down at the stones, to see that the red one was rocking back and forth. More confused than ever, he backed away as the stone rattled itself off the table and landed hard on the floor. He was positive the stone would shatter once it hit the tile, but instead it just rolled over the floor, moving closer to him as he backed away from it. A small crack suddenly appeared along its surface, followed by another. The stone continued to wobble, until a section of it broke off and landed on the floor. Apprehension grew within him, as he suddenly became aware of what it was: an egg.

The egg shattered into pieces, and tumbling to the ground was a small, crimson dragon.

Murtagh's mouth dropped open, as fear was apparent in his eyes. "No," he mouthed, as he backed away from the small creature. A smile was still across Galbatorix's face, as the dragon stumbled to its feet, then let out a small squeak. The dragon's piercing red eyes turned to Murtagh, as he took a step closer to him.

Murtagh immediately stepped away, as the thing cried out once more, moving closer to him. "No," he said loudly, as he stood in denial of what had just occurred.

"Congratulations, Murtagh," Galbatorix said. "You're the next Dragon Rider."

"No!" he nearly shouted, stepping away from the small creature once more and losing his footing. He fell to the floor, shaking his head franticly as the dragon continued to call for him.

"Take him, Murtagh," the king chimed, as he stepped around the table, moving closer to the infant dragon. "Touch him."

"No!" Murtagh shouted, continuing to push himself away from the creature. "Get that thing away from me. It's not mine!"

"It hatched for you," the king spoke. "It has chosen you to follow in your father's legacy."

"No."

"You will be powerful. More powerful than Morzan ever was."

"No!" Murtagh screamed as he covered his ears, backing himself up against the wall. The dragon's voice still rang through his ears as it echoed through the throne room. The small creature leapt toward him, landing in front of his feet and gazing at him with its large, longing eyes. It cried again.

"No!" Murtagh screamed.

"Touch him!" Galbatorix urged.

"No!"

The dragon squealed, cried.

"Take him!"

"No!"

More squealing . . .

"Guards!"

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Seven**

Zuriel quickly opened the door to Murtagh's bedroom, taking care not to tip the tray she held in her left hand. She was gazing absently at nothing, as the door thumped against something. A rather blood-curdling shriek was heard from inside the room, and she impulsively stepped away from the door. She stared in horror for a moment, until another noise was heard. This one was a softer sound. She slowly approached the door again, carefully pushing it open.

She stepped into the room, gazing around in confusion. She noticed the red dragon standing before her on the floor.

Her mouth dropped first, but then her shocked expression turned into a smile as it stared up at her. She then realized she had hit the dragon with the door, and felt awful. Her gaze shifted to Murtagh, who sat on the bed defiantly, his hard gaze directed at the infant creature. Zuriel set down the tray and cautiously approached him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Murtagh," she said softly.

"Take it away," he said, shifting his gaze.

"Murtagh," she said again, laying a hand softly on his shoulder.

The dragon let out a cry as it stepped closer to the bed, gazing up at her with a longing look its eyes. It was so small, its expression so innocent. Zuriel stared at it for a second, then turned back to Murtagh.

She sighed as she stood up from the bed and took the tray she had set on the desk. On it was Murtagh's supper, which consisted of some bread, meat, cheese, and wine. She sat back down on the bed and looked down at the dragon, who had been following her every move. She smiled at the small creature, then tore off a piece of the meat.

She handed the small chunk to the dragon, and it hastily took it from her fingers. It swallowed it eagerly, then cried for more. She tore it off some more meat, then set down the tray, returning her attention to Murtagh.

"What is wrong?" she asked in a whisper, running her soothing hands over his arm.

"It's that thing," he answered. "I don't want it."

"Why not?"

"Do you even have to ask that question?" he snapped, turning toward her angrily. "Don't you know already?"

She looked down at the dragon, who was now munching on Murtagh's bread. She lightly smiled, then turned back to Murtagh, moving his dark locks from his eyes.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered after a second.

"Then trust me when I say you will not become your father."

"How do you know that?" he asked, watching the dragon at their feet. "How do you know I won't turn out to be exactly like him?"

Zuriel didn't answer for a moment, as she stared into his eyes, which looked so lost. She ran her hand down his face, then asked. "Would you throw a sword at a child?"

He didn't answered her. He didn't have to.

His eyes met with the dragon's. It had eaten all it could and was now staring up at him with those same large eyes. Murtagh took in an uneasy breath, as he extended his hand out to the dragon.

His finger tips scarcely brushed against the dragon's scales, before he felt a hot, searing pain travel up his arm. He suddenly pulled away from Zuriel as he cradled his arm, crying out as the pain worsened. It traveled up his arm, to his shoulder, then down his entire body. He grasped his hand firmly, as he felt the boiling pain vibrate through it. All his limbs felt numb, as he took in deep breaths.

It seemed like forever before all the pain and sensations had passed. Murtagh laid back on his bed. Zuriel was staring at him carefully, her hand on his chest as she silently wondered how he felt. Murtagh numbly lifted up his hand, gazing at the silver circle that was now on his palm. There it was: the gedwey ignasia.

He sighed deeply as he looked down at the dragon, who had just jumped onto his bed. It looked at him for a second, then crawled onto his chest, nuzzling closely to his neck. Murtagh couldn't keep his smile away, as the creature cuddled closely to him, and began to throatily hum. Zuriel smiled down at the two of them.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.

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The next morning, Murtagh was woken by a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. He groggily opened his eyes to be greeted by Zuriel's warm smile. He closed his eyes again, as the sunlight came through his open window. He yawned as he rubbed his eyes, then opened them again.

"I brought you some breakfast," Zuriel said to him, holding a tray of food in her hand. He noticed that this time there was an extra piece of meat.

Murtagh felt different that morning. It was as if he were aware of so much more. He could sense that the dragon was there in the room, and he felt an immense amount of power coming from it. He could also feel that Zuriel was beside him, in a different way than before. He looked around his room, in search of his dragon, yet he saw him nowhere.

"Where's the dragon?" he asked Zuriel.

A smile crossed the woman's face, as she leaned forward so that it could be seen. Behind her, perched the red dragon, who was currently chewing on the ends of her hair. Murtagh smiled at the sight, as he sat himself upright.

"Hey," he said, reaching out and grabbing the small dragon. He slowly pulled it away from her hair so no to tug on it and hurt Zuriel. The dragon let go of her hair easily and turned its attention to its future rider. It seemed happy in his hands, as it squeaked playfully. It cuddled closely to him again, rubbing its scaly head against his chin.

"Have you thought of a name for him yet?" Zuriel asked, as she watched the two of them.

"No," Murtagh answered, stroking his dragon's head.

Zuriel took the plate with the extra piece of meat and held it out to the dragon. It turned its attention away from Murtagh and approached the plate as she set it down on the bed. It immediately began to eat. The two of them admired the small creature for a moment, until she passed Murtagh his tray. He slowly began to eat his breakfast.

Zuriel stared down at the dragon for a moment, then turned her gaze back to Murtagh, who looked rather distant as he ate. She wondered what he was thinking, hoping that it wasn't anything unpleasant. She placed her hand on his knee, letting him know that she was there for him, incase he wanted to talk. He looked back at her as she touched him, then a small smile followed.

"May I see your back?" she asked, which caught him slightly off guard.

He stared at her for a second, then nodded his head. He set aside his food and took the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head to bare his torso. He leaned forward so that his back could be seen. She gazed over his muscled back, running her fingers delicately over the white scar. Shivers ran over his entire body as she did so, but he tried to hide any discomfort he was feeling. He wondered why she wanted to see it now, when she probably already had the countless times she had healed him.

"It's a shame I did not have the skills I do now," she said, as she continued to trace it. "Or else you would not be able to tell that you were ever hit."

He lightly smiled as her caresses turned from unpleasant to comforting. He sat up straight once more, forcing Zuriel to withdraw from him. He looked into her eyes as he continued to eat. She smiled at him one last time, before she sat up from the bed and walked over to the desk.

"I should be going now," she said with her back turned toward him. She began to pick up selective medicine bottles and place them into a bag she carried. "I have more work to attend to."

Murtagh said nothing to her, just kept his eyes locked on her as he ate. He didn't want her to leave, knowing that after she left he would be alone with his dragon, who so far was mute. It would be a silent day.

He watched her carefully, saying nothing as he gazed at her with an unhealthy interest. His dragon, who had finished its meal, was now cuddling close to his arm. He stroked it, but didn't turn his attention away from the healer.

A vial of medicine rolled off the table, as she accidently knocked it over. She sighed as she bent to pick it up. Her long robes draped down her body as she went to reach for it, and she was force to cast it to the side. When she did so, it bared the side of her dress, showing the dagger that was hidden there. Inspiration struck Murtagh in the form of a smile.

"Will you come back and see me tonight?" he asked.

Zuriel looked at him as she stood back to her full height.

"Please?"

She lightly chuckled, as she placed the vial back on the desk. "Alright," she said, placing the bag over her shoulder to let it rest on her hip. "I'll see you later. Just try and think of a name for your dragon."

He didn't answer her, as she turned and exited the room. A smile crossed his lips as she shut herself out, and he resumed eating his breakfast. His dragon rubbed its head in his hand, as he began to plan.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to put this up here. I had the flu, and was so exhausted I just couldn't bring myself to do much of anything. :/ The next chapters will be up sooner. Promise. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Eight**

Night had come with its usual timing, and Murtagh's room had fallen dark. The only light was coming from the two candles on the desk. The room was quiet, the soft breeze blowing in through the open window. He laid slumped on his bed, the small dragon nestled on his arm as he softly stroked its head. He stared off at nothing, his eyes looking distant and he sat in deep thought and concentration.

Ever since he had touched the dragon and gotten the Gedwey Ignasia, he felt so much more aware of everything. His mind felt open and vast, and he had even experimented with trying to open it further, to reach out to the dragon's mind. He was able to feel its consciousness and some stray emotions, but he found himself unable to communicate with words. He remembered how Eragon talked mentally with Saphira, and he was confused why he couldn't do the same with his red little friend. He could only guess that the creature wasn't old enough.

The dragon seemed to understand him though, and he even started talking to it once. It stared at him with intent and intelligent eyes.

Murtagh drew his focus back to the moment, and stared down at the dragon. Once it noticed his stare, it perked up as if waiting for him to give him something. Murtagh forced a weak smile, then let his head fall back against the wall, as he waited for Zuriel to return.

Minutes more passed-slow minutes-until he was alerted by the opening of the bedroom door. He sat up straight, pulling the dragon onto his lap as Zuriel stepped into the room, walking calmly and slowly. Her face was pensive as she gazed down at nothing, like he noticed she did a lot. She finally met his stare, as she closed the door behind her. A small smile touched her lips and he returned it, a devious glint shining in his eyes.

Zuriel said nothing to him as she walked over to the table, setting her bag down and looking over a few of the bottles. Murtagh gazed at her from behind, noting that she wore the same clothes as she did earlier. A devious smile touched his mouth, as he moved the dragon off of his lap, evoking a squeal from it. It caught Zuriel's attention, as Murtagh stood from the bed. He stared at the dragon for a moment as it looked back at him, then he finally turned to Zuriel, approaching her.

"Are you well?" she asked in a general tone, as she exchanged bottles back and forth in her bag.

"Quite," he responded. Her eyes turned to him when she noticed a confident tone in his voice-one she hadn't heard before. She eyed him with suspicion, then took a step away from him, making it look like she was circling the table to get something else. But she kept her eyes on him, and he kept his on hers. There was something in his eyes, something that made her uncomfortable. When she could no longer stand to look at him, she dropped her gaze.

"Do you wish for me to stay still?" she asked, as she placed more vials randomly in her bag.

"Yes," he answered.

The dragon squealed, making the two of them look at it momentarily. Zuriel smiled at it for a moment, then returned her attention to her bag.

He was silent as he stepped behind her, and she could almost feel his gaze boring into her back. She felt uncomfortable being in that position and turned around to face him. She was about to say something, but was caught off guard when he suddenly took her wrist in his strong grip. With his free hand, he quickly reached into her cloak and felt around for the belt that was around her waist, until he found the hilt of her dagger.

Before she could even say anything to him, he pulled out the weapon and pressed it against her throat.

She gasped as the cold metal came in contact with her skin. She dropped the bag she was holding, the glass bottles shattering as they hit the stone floor. He quickly backed her into the corner, holding the knife to her throat.

"If you scream, I'll kill you," he hissed, pinning her against the wall, continuing to hold her wrist.

She looked down at the dagger in fear, then looked back into his eyes. He was angry, and that mad glare that was always present in his eyes only frightened her more. "Murtagh," she started to say, but he cut her off by pressing the blade closer to her neck.

"Quiet!" he said in a forceful whisper.

She closed her eyes tightly, as the thought and realization of the dagger frightened her. "Please don't do this, Murtagh," she whispered. She opened her eyes again when he didn't reply. "If you fail to escape and Galbatorix finds you, your punishment-"

"Quiet!" he hissed again, after her voice grew too loud.

The dragon squealed, making him throw an angry glance toward it. "Shh!" he said, then turned back to Zuriel.

"What is the quickest and easiest way out of here?"

Zuriel stared at him, a mixture of fear and pity in her eyes. She didn't reply.

"Answer me!" he demanded, pressing the flat of the blade painfully against her. She winced from the pressure, then let out a gasp.

"There's a servant's entrance," she answered in a hushed tone. "It's down the hall to the right, and there's a winding stair case that will lead you to the bottom floor." Before she even finish her sentence, he took her by the back of the neck and pulled her away from the wall. He searched around the room as if he wasn't sure what to do with her. "But you won't get far," she added, too loud in Murtagh's opinion, and he impulsively took her by the hair at the nape of her neck. She cried out quietly, as she closed her eyes from the pain. "Once Galbatorix realizes you've gone, he'll send half his army after you. He will not risk your escape . . . or the dragon's."

Murtagh stared at her for a moment, loosening his grip on her hair. He then glanced at the dragon, who was perched on the end of his bed and gazing at him with a questioning face. The small creature looked eager. He looked back down at Zuriel. "Then I'll leave the dragon here," he said.

"But you can't!" she said. He pushed her back against the wall, with a little more force than he intended to. Her body slammed against the wall, her head coming in cold contact with it. Her body fell limp and she slid to the floor, unconscious. His face was that of shock, but it was too late for regrets now.

He quickly gathered the healer in his arms and carried her over to his bed, laying her down as the dragon moved out of the way. He had never meant to hurt the woman, and he knew that he could never have driven the dagger through her throat. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he could.

Either way, he was glad it didn't have to come to that.

He adjusted his grip on the dagger, then turned his gaze back to the dragon. It was still staring up at him with that same look. He sighed, then opened his mind to the creature, searching the vast openness, until he felt it's consciousness. _Stay._ He commanded. The dragon made a sound that said it didn't want to comply. _Stay._ He said again. This time, the reply he got was that of sadness, as the dragon looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he closed his mind off to it, then headed for the door. The dragon gave one final squeal, before he took hold of the handle and flung the door open.

Two guards stood outside his door, and they turned their attention to him as soon as he opened it. But before they could even say anything, or realize what was going on, he stabbed the dagger into one's heart. The cold metal broke through his armor and pierced his heart. Murtagh withdrew the knife before he had even sunk to the floor, then swung his arm around so that the blade slid across the other guard's neck. He fell the floor beside his companion, two corpses to join the list of others he had killed so he could live.

He turned back around when he heard the squealing of the dragon, and he saw it leaping off his bed to come toward him. He quickly shut himself out, before the dragon could follow him. He was now alone in the silent hallway. He reached down and took hold of one of the guard's sword, which was half-way drawn in an attempt to ward him off. He tossed the dagger aside as he held the new weapon, spinning it around once in his hand, before making his way away from his room.

He made his way cautiously down the hall, making sure there were no servants or guards around that would see him. He would have hidden the bodies of the guards in his room, if there had been more time. But his escape had to be quick, so by the time they noticed he was gone, he would be far away.

He ducked to the side and hid in the shadows as a group of guards passed by, talking loudly and boasting about the gambling games they had won that week. It felt like they passed irritatingly slow, before Murtagh could move back out into the open. He crept through the vacant passage ways, feeling relieved that there was still nobody around him. He made his way to the very end of the hall, where he stopped at an ajar door, which was lit inside.

It was empty, with the large winding staircase that led down to who knew where. He pushed the door open further, making it creak over its rusted hinges. He opened the gap only wide enough to step through.

He began his descent, still careful. The stairs passed many exits and doors, but he went by them all, knowing he only needed to get to the bottom floor. Zuriel hadn't told him what to do once he got there, but he figured he would end up dirtying his newly-acquired blade before the night was through.

The walk down the stairs was long, but luckily there was no one there for him to pass. He reached the bottom floor, seeing the door that led the way to the kitchens and forked in many other directions. He could only guess where half of them went.

He gazed around the doors, holding his sword in both hands as sweat began to drip down his brow. He took in a deep breath, then made his way through one of the closest doors, knowing it was just as likely to be an escape route than any other.

It was late, so he figured that was why the servants were absent from the halls he now walked. He glanced around cautiously and nervously, as he looked for an exit that would lead him to the outside. He only knew two ways out of the castle. One, which was the first one he had used when he tried to escape with Tornac. That was now out of the question, since he knew Galbatorix would have a whole legion positioned there just in case. And Two, the front gate, which would be about as stupid as the other idea.

He bounced ideas back and forth in his head, and he tried to think of another way to go.

He knew there were multiple exits in a castle as large as that one. Figuring out the right route to take was his main problem. He just hoped that if he followed the path he was on, he would eventually come outside.

Torches lit the hall he was walking through, the only sound in the room being the crackling of the flames and his own foot steps. He breathed slowly, as if afraid to make any more noise than that which was necessary. He came to the end of the hallway, and there he found another door. He walked up to it, softly placing his ear against the cold wood. He held his breath as he listened intently. A smiled touched his lips when he heard one distinct sound: wind. He was close.

He stepped back and took it by the handle, pulling it open.

His heart jumped when he was met by the sight of two guards. They were in the middle of a conversation, but that conversation was over with the moment he opened the door.

"Hey!" one of them said as he reached for his sword. Before the man could get a proper hold on it, Murtagh drove his own weapon through his chest.

He swiftly pulled the weapon out, then blocked the attack the other guard aimed for his head. He managed to evade the man's strikes, then jabbed his sword through his abdomen. The guard's cry caught in his throat, his body slowly slipping off his blade, crashing to the floor.

Murtagh looked up from the two bodies, noticing that he was in the courtyard. And he wasn't alone out there. Surrounding the place were many of the royal people of the court, along with multiple guards.

He swore to himself as he quickly went through his options in his head. He could run back inside and shut the others out, then try to find another escape route. But the guards would already know he was on the loose and would be looking for him. He wouldn't get far. He also couldn't think of any other escape route.

He decided that he had to fight and make his way through . . . or die trying.

Four of the scattered guards ran toward him. He dodged their attacks as if he knew exactly where they were going to strike. He stabbed one in the chest, then kicked back another that was attacking him, as he pulled his sword back out and beheaded another in one swift motion. More guards gathered around him, and he struck down all that came in his way. He had worked his way away from the door, cutting down all that were in his way of reaching the gate that stood before him.

His blood rushed through his veins, as his heart pounded in his chest, and sweat fell down his face. His body moved more swiftly than any other of the guards that were there. They had no chance against his sword skills, and all that approached him met their untimely death. All of the guards that surrounded the place had come to attack him, but none could touch him. The sound of thunder rumbling in the sky was accompanied by the rain, as he drove his sword through the last of the guards, then stood alone in the court yard.

He was breathing heavily, as blood drenched his sword and was splattered across his body-none of it his own. He willed his legs to move, making his way closer to the gate. He would find a way to pull it open, even if he had to do it with his bare hands.

He drew nearer, looking around and trying to find a lever that could control it. But before he could spot anything, the ground began to rumble beneath his feet. He looked down for a moment in confusion, then back up when he heard the gate begin to open. He stepped away from it, gaping as it slowly opened up, creaking on its large hinges. His heart jumped in his chest, when he found himself standing face to face with Galbatorix.

The King's voice rang out through the air, shouting an ancient and terrible word. The loud sound rang through, and an unbearable pain emerged from his leg. He cried out in pain as he stumbled to the ground.

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**A/N: Poor Thorn's gonna have abandonment issues. :/**

**Ha ha! Please review. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So...the reviews for the last chapter were a little mixed. :/ I actually considered changing that chapter, but then I would have had to change the following chapters. So I decided against it. So sorry to anyone's heart I broke. lol**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Nine**

Murtagh's screams echoed through the throne room and rang through her ears. She stared down at him as he cried out and writhed in pain. Galbatorix was standing over him, his arm outstretched as he shouted words of the ancient language, sending pain through the young man's body. Zuriel couldn't help but look away, as the King continued to torture him.

She had warned him not to try and escape, but he didn't listen. This was his fault. So why did she feel so guilty? It was her duty to tell the King if he tried to escape. She had no other choice but to go to him after the baby dragon had woken her with its cries. When the guards dragged Murtagh into the room, crying out in pain, he shot his dark gaze toward her, and she understood that he knew that she had warned the king.

Now there he was, screaming so that his voice was now hoarse, as his body convulsed on the floor. Galbatorix now circled around him, yelling at him about how ungrateful he was. He withdrew his magical attacks for a moment, and Murtagh curled up in a ball, whimpering as he wrapped his arms around himself. The King continued to talk to him, in a softer voice this time. Zuriel opened her eyes at the change, and looked with pitying eyes down at the man who refused to look back. The King continued to walk around him, amusement in his eyes as the young man looked so weak.

Suddenly, the King barked another word, and Murtagh was sent flying across the room, hitting the wall at the far end and screaming as he fell back to the floor. Zuriel closed her eyes again and dropped her head, unable to bear what she was watching.

The truth was, she hated pain. She hated death, she hated torture, she hated blood. Anything that brought discomfort to anyone, she hated. That was the reason she became a healer, so that she could help those who were suffering ward off their death. That was why she was here.

And now that she was watching what was occurring, it was like something was eating away at her heart. As much as she hated pain, she hated more the things that brought it. She hated the countless armies that would wound and slaughter men-many of them men she had to take care of; she hated swords and knives-even though she was forced to carry one; she hated executioners. She hated Morzan when she first saw the wound on Murtagh's back; she hated the Twins for how they tortured people; and now that she saw what the King was doing to Murtagh, she hated him as well.

She hated Galbatorix, yet she was bound to him. She was bound because she had taken up that job as one of his healers, even though people cautioned her that he was evil. But she doubted them. After all, he was her king, and she knew that he could be a great opportunity for her to help people. She soon afterward knew otherwise.

She forced her eyes open again, once the screaming had stopped. She looked down at Murtagh who was on his back, blood on multiple places of his body. He was in pain, and it pained her to see it. The King still loomed over him, looking as calm as ever, despite the anger in his eyes. Murtagh rolled over on his side, curling up once more as tears streaked his face. The King stood to his full height, turning his attention to the guards who stood by the door.

"Take him to the dungeon and bind him there!" the King commanded, and the guards immediately complied. Murtagh cried out in pain as the guards dragged him away and out of the room. As the door slammed shut, the King turned his attention to Zuriel. She stood against the wall, covering her mouth as she stared off at nothing, a disturbed look in her eyes.

"You will not heal him tonight," the King spoke, making her meet his gaze. "Nor will you ever carry a weapon around him again."

"Yes, my lord," she answered, bowing her head lower than it already was.

There was moment of silence, until he asked, "Where is the dragon?"

"In his room, sire."

"I want you to watch it for a while, keep it with you and keep a close eye on it," he paused for a moment, as if indulging a thought. "He will begin to miss Murtagh in his absence."

"How long do you intend to keep him in the dungeon, sire?" she asked.

"As long as it takes for him to swear loyalty to me. I will not risk him trying to escape again. If that dragon gets in the hands of the Varden . . . " he trailed off, as if catching himself before he said anything else to her.

Galbatorix turned and made his way slowly back to the throne.

"My lord, what if he dies?" she asked, her voice showing her emotion.

The King said nothing until he reached his throne, then turned back to her. "He won't . . . Now go."

Zuriel dipped her head nervously, then held her shaking hands together as she made her way out of the throne room.

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She stepped slowly through the halls of the castle, her eyes wandering aimlessly over the floors as she walked through unconsciously. She knew where she was going, and her feet led her there automatically, without a thought from her mind. She slowly lifted her eyes when she came faced with the wooden doors of the bedroom Murtagh had been staying in. But Murtagh was in there no longer, and it saddened her because she knew where he was now.

Many servants walked passed her, all turning their attention to the door as they heard a loud squeal coming from within. They also looked at her, as she simply stood there, doing nothing, staring at the floor.

"What is it?" one of the female servants asked her, taking her by the arm to grab her attention. Zuriel looked toward her, meeting the eyes of the young woman she had become friends with over the years. "What's making that noise?" the girl asked.

Zuriel stared at her for a moment, her face unreadable as she thought of a response. "King's business," was all she said.

The servants walked away from her afterward and the hallway was left empty again. Taking the opportunity where no one would see, Zuriel opened the door slowly, careful not to hit the dragon, who was no doubt sitting right behind it.

As soon as she opened it, the dragon's shrill voice could be heard screaming inside. She stepped in, its eyes immediately upon her. It stared up at her with a questioning face and a longing in its eyes. She knew what it was asking, even though it could not speak. It continued to cry up at her, as she sat on her knees beside it.

"Shh," she soothed quietly, softly petting it on the head. "It's alright," she said, though she didn't even believe the words herself.

The dragon placed his paws on her knees, moving up in her face and staring at her with his large eyes. She wondered if he already knew what was going on.

She let out a sigh, then gathered the small creature in her arms, making sure to pin its wings. She stood from the floor, then made her way over to the desk, blowing out the candle that was lit. There would be no need for it anymore. She stood there for a moment, ignoring the whimpering cries that the dragon was making. She then grabbed the side of her cloak, softly wrapping it around the creature in her arms.

"Shh," she said again, as it began to squirm at being covered up. "Shh, just for a minute."

When she had succeeded in quieting him, she carried the dragon out the door. She gazed at the blood stains that were left from the guards Murtagh had killed. The sight of it made her feel sick and the thought of Murtagh killing someone saddened her. She forced herself to turn away from the door, then started back down the hallway, passing silently by all the servants, who made no inquiry to the squirming yet quiet bundle in her arms.

She turned her direction and made her way toward her bedroom.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Not many chapters left to this story. :(**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Ten**

It could have been hours, it could have been days. But Murtagh couldn't tell. He couldn't feel time as it passed, only pain every new time it was inflicted. His mind was a foggy haze, and all he could remember was seeing the faces of the Twins as they came to punish him. All he could hear was their laughter, as it echoed through the dungeon and rang through his ears.

His throat burned like a furnace from all the times he had cried out in pain; his wrists were bloody and torn from how much he had pulled against his bonds; his head hurt from all the lost hours of sleep he had endured. He could barely see now. He could only feel, and even that was beginning to numb. He knew he shouldn't have lasted that long against such torture, yet he was alive.

A he knew that wouldn't change anytime soon.

He only remembered seeing Galbatorix once in that stage of his imprisonment, but he couldn't tell if it was an hour ago or a few days ago. All he remembered was that he demanded his loyalty, then all of his torture and pain would stop. But he hadn't responded, and since he hadn't, the Twins had their way with him.

He wasn't aware, weeks had passed since Galbatorix put him in that prison. Now, all he could see was black, as his mind circled around through thoughts and memories, searching for something to hold onto-something that would bring him some comfort. But he found nothing.

Then he began to wish for death, just to escape his pain. But something told him not to give up so easily. As as he at there in his numb state, he heard it so clearly.

_Murtagh . . . _The voice seemed to chime through the room. Yet he didn't hear it, he felt it.

_Murtagh_. It called again, and it seemed like the voice had cut through everything that was there. He opened his weak eyelids and gazed around the dark room. Like he had expected, no one was there. _Murtagh . . . _

It beckoned him to live, to hold onto life just a bit longer.

A weak smile stretched over his dry and cracked lips, as he closed his eyes again, letting his head fall limply. _Dragon . . . I'm so sorry._

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Zuriel laid asleep in her bed, on her side with the blanket wrapped around her like usual. It had been many days since she had last seen Morzan's son, and her worry had grown tenfold in that time. She thought about him every day and night, knowing what terrible pain he must be under. She would have to listen every morning and night, as the red dragon would cry out for his Rider, who was never there.

The dragon had stayed in her room the entire time, since Galbatorix had ordered her to watch over him. Over the past weeks, it had immensely grown, and its voice had deepened to a frightening rumble. She had never seen him sleep. Even when she would lay down for the night, he would sit by the window and look at the sky. When she would rise again, he would be standing by her door, waiting for her to open it and let him out. But she never did.

She pitied the dragon, knowing how much it must have hurt not being able to see Murtagh, who it hadn't known very long but probably knew so well already. She missed the young man, and couldn't fathom how much more the dragon must have missed him.

She was often away from her room, tending to her many duties and leaving the dragon alone. But when they were together, she would talk to him and spend as much time with him as possible, trying not to make it feel as lonely as she did. She never let any servants into her room, as Galbatorix told her, and found it tiring to go back and forth to the kitchen to get more and more food for the dragon. Many of the servants asked what she was doing, but she never answered them, only smiled.

She had grown fond of the dragon, knowing it was the closest she could get to Murtagh.

Everyday, Galbatorix would call for her and demand updates about the dragon. Even though there wasn't much to tell, she told him how much he had grown, how much he ate, and the fact that he never slept. Galbtorix seemed scarcely interested, yet satisfied with the information. Then he would send her away before she could ask about Murtagh. He had grown weary of her doing so.

So she had no idea how he was, though she could guess, for at random times the dragon would start screaming out, as if in pain, then would dart around the room in a panic. In the end, she would have to cast a spell on him just to get him to calm down.

The weeks had carried on like that, and as Zuriel slept, she wondered how much longer that would continue. But she was suddenly awoken by a large thumping noise, then the loud roar she had become accustomed to. She turned over in her bed and looked around the room, immediately spotting the red dragon by the door, pounding itself against it and using its long talons to claw at the wood. She at first thought it was having another one of its fits, but then noticing it was more focused and determined-focused and determined on the door, that is.

She threw the blankets off and walked over to the frantic dragon, which was now almost her height. "Dragon!" she called him-since he was still unnamed-and tried to calm him down. But he just turned toward her, baring his fangs and roaring loudly, frightening her away from him. The dragon had never been hostile toward her, so its outburst frightened her.

_Where is he? _The voice cut through her thoughts, frightening her even more. The dragon pulled away from the door, taking a step toward her, his fiery red eyes piercing through her. _Where is he?_ The dragon asked again.

"He-" Zuriel faltered, still surprised by the sudden words from the dragon. She couldn't bring herself to speak, too unsettled. It stared at her a second longer, then growled again, slamming itself against the door once more. "Don't!" Zuriel cried, but not to much avail. The dragon slammed himself against the door one last time, breaking it from its hinges. The door slammed to the floor in a mess of broken wood and splinters, as the dragon stepped out of the room, roaring loudly.

"Wait!" she called after it, but the dragon ignored her, running down the halls.

She quickly snatched one of her cloaks off the nearby chair, then ran down the hall after him. Many of the servants screamed and ran out of the way, as the dragon trampled down the halls, attacking anyone who stood in his way. Several guards came out and tried to stop him, then the dragon knocked them all out of his path, and scared away the others who were lucky enough not to be met with his sharp teeth.

Many of the people were scattered over the floor, as the dragon continued his way through, Zuriel running after him.

The dragon ran as if he knew where he was going, with a singular purpose in mind. Zuriel followed behind him, managing to slip her cloak on as she ran down the halls in her nightgown. She chased him down the many flights of stairs, gaining on him more each time he stumbled. She cried out for him to stop, but he paid no attention to her, making his way as quickly as possible to the dungeons.

As he drew nearer to the dungeons, more and more guards poured in around him, but he let none of them get in his way. He scratched at them and bit them, flinging them across the room just so he could get through. One of them managed to hit him on the arm, causing him to let out an agonizing scream. But the dragon soon did away with the guard, leaving him on the floor in severe pain. Zuriel was nearly up to the dragon, before it started running again.

She pulled herself to a stop as she gazed down at the guard who had cut the dragon. He was crying out in pain as blood poured from his chest, where there were deep claw marks. She immediately wanted to help the man, but she knew that her duty was to watch over the dragon. And if any guard harmed him, she would have to pay.

So she turned to another one of the soldiers standing by, who wasn't hurt as badly.

"Get him a healer!" she ordered, before continuing to chase after the dragon.

He was no longer within her sight, but she knew where he was going. She used all the speed she had, hoping she could get there before any of the guards harmed him, or got hurt in the attempt to do so. As she approached the dungeons, she saw the trail of soldiers who were taken out by the dragon, then heard the screaming of the beast as she drew nearer. She came to a skidding halt, as she came to the door of the cell Murtagh was locked in.

The dragon was there, banging itself against it and screaming. Two guards were by his feet, backing away and cradling the wounds they had received from trying to stop him. She kept her gaze on the dragon, as she reached down and helped the two guards back away.

She was alarmed when she heard the approaching footsteps of more guards. She quickly turned around, just as they were running into the hall.

"No!" she cried, holding her arms out for them to stop. "You cannot hurt him. The King will kill you!"

All the guards stopped, seeming puzzled as they stared at the dragon, who was still slamming himself against the metal door. It rattled against its hinges, the noise joining the screaming of the dragon. Zuriel gazed at him in pity, knowing how it must have been suffering.

The guards watched in awe, as the dragon continued to struggle with the door. They all doubted he would win in the fight, and were surprised when the door broke from its lock and hinges. It fell to the floor with a deafening bang.

The dragon immediately charged into the cell, as Zuriel followed in after him. He ran over to the man chained to the wall, limply hanging forward from his bonds. Even in the dark, she knew that it was Murtagh, and that he was in deep pain.

The dragon calmed down as he drew neared to him, nuzzling his face softly against Murtagh's to let him know he was there. Murtagh slowly lifted his head and looked at the dragon, lightly smiling as he straightened himself up, resting his back against the wall. He said nothing and closed his eyes again, weakly trying to reach out to the dragon, even though he couldn't.

Zuriel silently watched, her face showing the sympathy and sadness that she felt. The guards stepped in behind her, watching the dragon with awe as he cuddled himself closely to his Rider, no longer seeming vicious. They quietly murmured amongst themselves, but hushed and stepped aside as Galbatorix entered them room. The Twins followed behind him, and the three of them stood in the center of the cell, gazing down at the Dragon and Rider.

"Leave, all of you!" the King ordered, and the guards slowly began to flush out of the room, leaving the dragon, Murtagh, Galbatorix, and the Twins. Zuriel made silent eye-contact with the King, and he allowed her to stay.

The dragon was now staring at the King, baring his teeth and growling at him. Murtagh leaned against him, breathing heavily. The King placed his hands together, a small smile touching his lips as he took a step closer to them.

"Do you not see that your dragon hurts with you, Murtagh?" Galbatorix started, his voice smooth. "It is one thing to subject yourself to such pain and torment, but how can you do so to another as well?"

Murtagh looked toward him, but said nothing.

"Join me, Murtagh," his voice chimed, in almost a compassionate and pleasant tone. "Join me, and you can have more power than your father ever had. You can help me build a peaceful empire, where there will be no more need for war and fighting. You won't have to continue like this!"

Zuriel watched as the King continued to coax him softly. Half of her wished Murtagh would accept his offer, just so he wouldn't have to suffer any longer. Yet a part of her was proud of him for how long he had resisted him. Her heart was broken at the sight of the tortured man, and all she wanted to do was bring him back to her room and heal him of all his pain.

She was silent, her shaking hand covering her mouth as she watched. It seemed like forever before Murtagh finally responded to him. In the dim light, Zuriel could see the glistening of his wet face from all the tears that had streaked it.

Zuriel felt as if she could breath again, once the words of the ancient language escaped Murtagh's lips. In that moment, Morzan's son bound himself to Galbatorix for what might be the rest of his life. She felt slightly saddened as he did so, but her sadness was trampled by her relief. His pain would finally cease.

Galbatorix spoke the magic words. The bonds that bound Murtagh snapped open and he slouched to the floor. Zuriel wanted to immediately run to his side, but she kept herself planted, for fear of the king. The dragon nuzzled itself closer to his Rider, who was feebly trying to embrace him and looked like he was slowly passing from consciousness.

Galbatorix stood back to his full height and took a step closer to him. He stared down at him for a moment, before turning to Zuriel.

"Heal him," he said, before making his way out of the absent door.

Zuriel quickly rushed her bow to him, before running passed the twins and to Murtagh, falling on her knees beside him. Her soft hands were the last thing Murtagh felt, before he was out.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Eleven**

Murtagh slowly awoke from his deep sleep. He felt warm, at least warmer than he had felt for the past...how long had it been? He couldn't even recall.

He was comfortable, laid upon one of the softest beds he had ever felt. He slowly opened his eyes, gazing around the new room he now dwelt in. It was a great deal larger than the one he had previously been placed in. From what he could tell, it branched out in several different directions, indicating that it was much larger than just the part he slept in. The furniture was done in dark cherry wood, the sheets all in black.

He sat up, looking down and noticing the dragon, who was curled up on a carpet beside his bed, contently sleeping. He stared at him for a moment, before scanning over the rest of the room. He spotted a pair of clothes on the nightstand beside him. He took them, climbed out of bed, and quickly dressed, anxious to have a look around the place.

He found that there was a balcony there, also, which was wide open, letting the cool, nighttime breeze come into the large room. He stepped out onto it, gazing up at the open sky and below to the ground. He was in a high room, no doubt placed there so that his dragon could fly if he felt like it. He inspected the balcony for a moment, then made his way back to his bedroom. As he walked in, he was met by the familiar sight of all the bottles laid across his desk. He wondered why he hadn't noticed them before. They usually meant that Zuriel was either there or would be coming. He let out an angry huff, not wanting to see her at the moment.

He continued to absently stare at the desk and vials, until he noticed something else behind it. He walked closer and gazed down at the sheathed sword that was placed there. He took it in his hand, realizing now that it was his hand-and-a-half sword. He smiled to himself as he slowly unsheathed it, running his fingers slowly over the sharp and shining blade. He placed it back, happy he finally had something that was his.

But his smile quickly dropped when he heard approaching footsteps and Zuriel walked into the room.

Her gaze was to the ground like usual, then she looked to the bed, expecting to see him on it. She quickly turned to him, an expressionless look on her face as she faced him.

"You're awake," she said, walking closer to him. "You've been out for two days." A small smile dared make its way to her lips, but it was quickly washed away as Murtagh reached out and took her by the throat.

He gripped tightly, catching her by surprise as he pushed her back against the wall, holding her there. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't franticly panic and try gasping for air. She looked relatively calm as she grabbed his hand, trying feebly to pull his fingers from her neck. She kept her eyes locked with his the entire time.

"Why?" he asked through clenched teeth, as he squeezed harder on her slender neck, thinking how easily it would be just to snap it. "I could have escaped."

Zuriel's gaze hardened, as her fingernails threatened to puncture the skin of his hand. "Let go of me!" She said firmly, though it came out weakly from her lack of oxygen.

He didn't obey. He held on, feeling a surge of power over her as he held her life in his hand. He could will her to breathe and live, or die of suffocation. But she looked as composed as ever, even though her face was beginning to turn red.

_Murtagh._ The dragon's voice cut through his thoughts, making him turn his gaze from Zuriel. _Let her go,_ he said calmly, his voice stern.

He turned his gaze back to Zuriel, then roughly pulled his hand from her neck. She slouched against the wall, gasping in air. He stared at her for a moment longer, before turning away and going to sit back on his bed. Before he reached it, a hand grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back around.

"Let's get one thing straight," she said, pointing her finger up at him. "My loyalty is to the King, not to you! I serve the King, not you! I warned you not to try and escape. I told you what would happen. You chose not to listen and that is your fault, not mine!"

He stared down at her, seeming unaffected by the speech she was giving him. She was now angry, much different from the calm facade she was putting up a moment ago. She was still trying to catch her breath, and he felt it blowing hot against his face as she exhaled. He continued to gaze down at her, feeling a bit amused, angry, and shameful. But he hid it all.

He silently turned away from her, making his way over to the bed and taking a seat down on it. He looked down at the dragon, who was switching gazes back and forth.

Zuriel watched him for a moment longer, still taking in deep breaths. She finally turned away from him, facing the desk and beginning to place the many vials into her bag. "You've been out for two days," she continued what she was about to say beforehand, but this time her words came out harder. "Your training begins at dawn and I would suggest you not be late."

She finished, looking back to him as she fastened her bag. She stood erect, proud and regal. He continued to keep his gaze away from her. "It seems I am not needed here anymore, so I shall take my leave. Farewell, Murtagh." She bowed to the dragon, then turned and made her way out of the room.

Murtagh watched her as she left and disappeared from his sight. He waited for the slamming of the door, then turned his gaze back to the dragon, who met it.

_Why did you do that?_ the dragon asked him. _I like her._

_Well, I don't,_ he replied, placing his hand on the dragons head, as he snaked it closer to him.

_Liar._

Murtagh gazed deeply into his eyes, the creature staring back at him, sharing all the emotions his Rider was feeling. Anger, sorrow, fear, regret...Everything that had happened since the moment he was brought to the palace was beginning to surface, along with what he had done before his imprisonment.

_Forget about it,_ the dragon cautioned.

_I'm sorry,_ he said.

_I forgive you...just don't ever leave me again._

Murtagh smiled softly, continuing to caress the dragon's head until he started to throatily hum. "I won't. Ever."

A moment of silence passed between them. Murtagh stared down at his content companion, the dragon's eyes closed as he focused on Murtagh's touch.

_I've thought of a name for you_, Murtagh suddenly said.

The dragon perked up. _What?_

_Thorn,_ Murtagh answered.

The dragon was silent for a second, thinking over the name. _Am I a thorn to you?_ he asked.

_No, but that's what you will be to our enemies._

Murtagh felt a sudden wave of satisfaction come from the dragon, as he continued to rub his scaly head against his hand. _I like it._

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**A/N: There's only two chapters left now. Someone suggested I do a sequel, and I've been thinking about it. But I wanna really make sure it's something I wanna do, cuz I have a habit of starting sequels and not liking them. -_-**

**Anyway...please review. ^_^**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Second to last chapter. Hehe. I'm gonna miss putting this story up here once it's done. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Twelve**

Weeks quickly passed. Murtagh had begun his training the scheduled day, and ever since, it had been a vigorous process. Galbatorix taught him many things about magic and the ancient language, along with many things about dragons. He fed him new things every day, forcing him to learn more than one was supposed to in such a short time. It was a draining and unending process, and it always left him exhausted and weak. But he thought the most sad part of it all, was that he was actually enjoying it.

Thorn had also grown immensely in the meantime, both naturally and from Galbatorix's influence. He had been capable of flight for some time now, and the King had taught him the proper techniques in soaring the sky.

Murtagh enjoyed the flights with Thorn, finding a strange peace up in the sky. They often went out at night, when they were supposed to be asleep, and the two of them would talk for hours, discussing with one another the things they knew and learned. Murtagh shared a lot with Thorn, glad that he finally had someone he could be honest with. He never had to worry about keeping secrets, or hiding his feelings from him.

They had not seen Zuriel since the time in his room. Truthfully, Murtagh was beginning to miss her, though his pride wouldn't allow him to admit it. He soon felt guilty for the way he had treated her, now understanding that she had no other choice. He now knew what it was like to have yourself bound to one such as Galbatorix.

One night, after a long, grueling day of training, Murtagh decided that he should seek Zuriel out. He asked one of the servant girls where he might find her, and he decided to think of an excuse once he did. The servant told him she dwelt in a room not far from the servants' quarters and gave him directions on how to get there.

He had to admit, he was a bit nervous as he walked down the halls, making his way there. He wondered why he felt that way though, he was after all, as Dragon Rider. He was the second most powerful man in the Empire, so why was he so apprehensive about meeting the woman? Maybe it was because he was unsure how she would react to him, since their last encounter hadn't been the most pleasant.

What could she do to him anyway? Not like she could hurt him, at least not physically. Maybe he just didn't want her to reject him, and force him to say he was sorry just so she would talk to him again. For some odd reason, he enjoyed her company, and wanted to tell her all that he had learned, and how well he and Thorn were doing. He wanted to impress her. But why?

As he was pondering all of this, he drew nearer and nearer to the servants' quarters. But he spotted Zuriel quicker than he had expected, and in a different manner than he expect. She was in the deserted hall, cornered against the wall by none other than the Twins. Murtagh brought himself to a halt as he spotted them, anger suddenly running through him. The three of them were obviously talking back and forth, Zuriel responding with her usual brave and calm manner as she tried to walk away from them. One of them grabbed her roughly, pushing her back against the wall.

From his distance, Murtagh couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew they weren't having a friendly conversation.

"Hey!" he called, getting the attention of the three of them. The Twins looked annoyed when they saw him there, then pulled away from Zuriel. They still stood considerably close to her, blocking any way for her to escape. Murtagh approached them. "What's going-"

"This doesn't concern you, Morzansson," one of them Twins spoke.

"I don't think the King would approve of you harassing one of his best healers," Murtagh said firmly.

"Galbatorix gives us leave to do whatever we want!" said one.

"Now leave, boy," said the other. "This doesn't concern you." He grabbed Zuriel by the arm, about to drag her away to some unknown place. But within a second, Murtagh drew his hand-and-a-half sword, pointing its sharp tip at the one twin's throat.

"Let her go," Murtagh ordered.

"Put your sword away! If you kill us, Galbatorix will punish you severely."

"Yes, but not enough to impose on my well being. After all, I am his only other Rider." If there was one thing Murtagh had learned in the past weeks, it was that Galbatorix valued him above all else.

The Twins stared at him long and hard, anger and hatred in their eyes. The one finally let go of Zuriel's arm, roughly tossing her against the wall. "This is not over," the both of them threatened, as then walked away, making their way down the hall and out of sight.

"Damn right," he returned under his breath, inaudible to their ears.

Murtagh watched them leave as he sheathed his sword, then turned to Zuriel. She was looking at him with an expressionless face, as she pushed herself away from the wall. "Are you alright?" he asked her, offering her his hand to help her stand up straight.

"Yes," she answered, brushing off her black cloak. "Thank you, though I could have taken care of myself."

Murtagh smiled at her refusal to show weakness. "Of course," was all he said, in a genuine manner.

She met his gaze, looking unsure and slightly nervous as the two of them just stood there. She suddenly dipped her head at him, offering a formal bow, before she turned and began walking away.

"Wait," he said, following after her and walking beside her. "I...We haven't seen you for a while."

Zuriel smiled but kept her gaze forward, as the two of them continued to walk. He didn't even know where they were going. "I've been busy," she answered, looking at him for a second out of the corner of her eye. "Galbatorix has me running back and forth, healing all of the wounded soldiers that keep coming back. Besides, I wasn't aware you wanted to see me."

He didn't reply. He let them walk in silence for a few slow steps.

"Thorn misses you," was all he could think to say.

"Thorn?" she asked with a smile, now fully looking up at him. "You finally named him?"

He nodded sheepishly.

Her smile grew even wider. She came to a halt and he stopped beside her. "Well, if he misses me all that badly, I guess I could go and see him."

"He'd like that," Murtagh said with a small smile, hoping she couldn't see behind his phony excuse.

She nodded, then turned around and began walking the other direction, to his room. He walked beside her, suddenly feeling awkward at the silence that followed. He looked at her to see the smile on her lips, which looked like she was trying to contain laughter. He suddenly felt embarrassed and childish, wondering if she was amused by him.

The walk to his room was mostly silent, and seemed uncomfortably long before they finally reached it. He opened up the large doors for her, allowing her entrance into his room. She nodded to him as she stepped through, and he followed, shutting the door behind himself. He led her through the many different branches to his bedchamber, which had the entrance to the balcony. He led her outside, where she was greeted by the sight of Thorn. The dragon sat on the floor, his head resting on the ground as if he were asleep. But to their approach, he opened his eyes, gazing at the two of them with joy.

Zuriel's mouth was agape as she saw him. She approached the young dragon, who was now considerably taller than her. "Haven't you grown!" she said, reaching out and touching the top of his head as he snaked it out toward her.

_Zuriel,_ he spoke to her. _It's been a while._

"Murtagh says you miss me," she said, and Murtagh's smile dropped, wondering how Thorn would reply to her.

_Of course,_ was all he said.

Zuriel let out a small laugh, which he realized he hadn't heard her do much. She caressed Thorn's head, and the two of them communicated mentally back and forth.

Murtagh smiled at the sight, as he circled around Thorn then took a seat on the floor, resting his back against his scaly stomach. Zuriel looked at him for a moment, before turning her gaze back to Thorn.

_You know he's the one who really wants to talk to you,_Thorn said only to her, and Murtagh grew frustrated as he realized the dragon was blocking him out.

_What?_Murtagh asked, blocking his thoughts from Zuriel and projecting them only to Thorn. But Thorn didn't answer.

_I know,_she replied to Thorn, but the both of them were able to hear her. She gave the dragon one final caress on his crimson nose, then stepped away from him, making her way over to Murtagh and taking a seat beside him. Thorn snaked his head around himself, resting it down beside her as he closed his eyes to sleep.

"So . . . " Zuriel started, wrapping her cloak around herself to block the cool, nighttime wind. "How is your training coming?"

"Well," he answered with a smile. "Galbatorix has taught me many things. I can heal myself now."

She smiled and nodded her head, momentarily looked outward. "And how are you?"

He shrugged, bending his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. "I'm alright. I mean, I don't really have a choice. I've come to accept that." He paused, looking up at the distant, cloudy sky. "It's strange," he said, a smile now touching his lips. "Galbatorix seems to change so much during training. It's like he's not even the same man who tortured me all those weeks."

"I've been around the King for a while. And I've learned he has one passion in life: power. He probably enjoys sharing it with you, knowing you won't betray him with it. He probably enjoys showing you all he knows."

"But I doubt he'll ever share _everything_ with me."

"Probably not. But you'll be powerful, no doubt."

He smiled, his gaze still at the night sky. A moment of silence passed between them and his smile dropped. His mind began wandering, his thoughts traveling back to Eragon.

"Galbatorix says I'll be ready to face my brother soon," he spoke to her, but didn't meet her eyes. Zuriel could sense the somber mood that fell over him. He suddenly turned toward her, looking upset. "He'll hate me."

"What?"

"Eragon will hate me for what I've become. I've turned into our father."

"No," she soothed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "This is not your fault. You had no choice."

"But Eragon won't see it that way!"

"He may hate you," she said after a second of thought. "He may hate you for it, but you cannot change how he feels. We all make choices in life, and make allegiances we may come to regret. But at the time we have no choice, and no one can fault you for that."

"He won't understand that. He'll only see that I've betrayed him." He dropped his gaze, looking down at his knees as she ran her fingers softly through his long hair.

"Don't feel guilty for what you cannot change," she said softly.

He turned to her, gazing into her large brown eyes. He weakly tried to force a smile, but it failed. She drew in closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a motherly embrace. He closed his eyes, letting her hold and comfort him, feeling safe and at peace in that moment.

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**A/N: Please review. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here is it, the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cyle or any of its characters.**

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**Chapter Thirteen**

Weeks continued to pass at an incredible rate, and day after day, Murtagh could feel himself growing stronger and stronger. Thorn continued to grow, as did his power. When they were together, he felt as if the two of them could conquer anything. He had learned so much, but for all he gained, he couldn't deny the feeling of loss.

He saw Zuriel often, whenever time permitted. They would spend hours together, but Murtagh found their conversations lessening. He grew more quiet, closed off, answering only what he found was necessary to tell her. The healer immediately understood his distance, and never pressed him to tell her anything. The time they spent together soon turned into silent company. He would simply go to her room at times, and just watch her as she either sewed or did other essential things. Whatever his thoughts were as he did so, she never knew.

Thorn still enjoyed her company as well, so she would often go to him and sit with the two of them on the balcony. Thorn carried a better conversation than Murtagh did, but his Rider never permitted him to block him out while they were talking. It was a rule Thorn submitted to for his sake.

Currently, Murtagh was making his way through the long halls of the castle, on his way to Galbatorix's throne room. He had been called there that morning, and apprehension was now taking its toll on him. He was dreading what Galbatorix's orders would be that day. He knew his time was approaching, and his biggest fear was coming to face him.

He stepped through the large doors as they were opened for him, and entered into Galbatorix's grand abode. He was immediately met with the site of the king, as he stood with his back facing him. Murtagh was silent as he sank to his knees, watching the king as he gazed off at something in the distance.

"Do you know why I have called you here?" the king finally spoke, still keeping his gaze from him.

"No, my king," he simply answered.

Galbatorix finally turned around, his chilling gaze meeting his as he stepped down the stairs that led to his throne. "I have trained you long and hard, and now it is time for you to take care of the Varden, and bring your brother to me."

He knew it.

"Yes, my king," he agreed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"I have a legion of my soldiers ready. The Twins will lead them, and you will take your dragon, and crush the Varden where they stand."

"Yes, my king."

"Swear that you will do as I command you."

He stood there, his gaze still at the floor. He felt something painful in his chest. Something deep down inside of him was keeping those words from reaching his lips. Something deep down inside of him was hoping there was a way around it.

There had to be. Maybe there was . . .

Softly, and fluently, in the Ancient Language, he spoke. An approving smile crossed the king's face, as he turned from him, then made his way back up to his throne. "Very good," Galbatorix spoke.

"Now go prepare."

Murtagh bowed his head to the king, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. He rose, making his way back to the door, letting out an uncomfortable sigh.

Maybe . . . Just maybe . . .

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Murtagh stood anxiously in the center of his room. He could feel his heart beating irregularly in his chest, as if reminding him of the risk that the king's command involved, and the way it would turn out in the end. He was alone his room, with the exception of Thorn of course. He gazed at the suit of armor that was prepared for him. It was beautiful, being everything he could have ever wanted for protection. However, the last thing he wanted now was to wear it. He knew once he put it on, he could only go forward.

Much to his relief, a knock came to his door. He turned to face it, then said, "Come in."

It opened and Zuriel slowly stepped into the room, in the same manner as always. As she entered, he felt the strange restriction in his chest lessen a bit, as he was comforted by her presence. She always managed to make him feel better, maybe just her being there would help soothe him. In fact, it already had.

"What is it?" the older woman asked, walking up to him as she saw the troubled look on his face.

He smiled lightly, sorrow behind the gesture, no matter how proud he tried to look. "I'm going now. Galbatorix has ordered me to capture Eragon and Saphira."

"I see," she said, stepping around him and gazing at the suit of armor. His gaze followed her, and he studied her there for a moment, taking in her simple site. "Do you feel ready?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Yes," he answered, stepping closer to the armor and running his hand across its cool metal. "I can face him now. I have to . . . "

"That's not exactly what I mean," she said.

He looked over at her, not removing his hand.

"Your mind...How is it?"

"You said it was stable months ago."

"As stable as it could get," she corrected with a light smile, noting how strange that sounded.

"What are you implying?" he asked, confusion in his eyes.

"Nothing. It's just that . . . " she faltered, wondered how she could word what she wanted to say. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"You're sure?" she asked carefully.

"Yes."

She nodded her head, placing her hands together as she faced the armor once again. He faced it as well, taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. He reached for the armor, taking it off its stand, then beginning to fasten it around himself. Zuriel watched him as he did so, then stepped to his side, beginning to help him.

"Will you remember your training?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I have faith."

"Faith in what?" he asked, confused. He looked down at her, and she met his eyes.

"Faith that you'll make it through this." She turned her attention back to his armor, as she tightened it around his torso.

"You speak as if you're afraid that I'll die," he noted.

She met his gaze again, her dark eyes showing her love and concern. "Only in here," she placed a soft hand on the center of his chest, before stepping around him and making her way back to the rest of the armor.

He watched her as she fastened the metal plates to his arm, being gentle as she did so. He didn't ask her to do any of this, but like always, she helped him, offering her time to do the simplest of things. He felt close to this woman, for so many reasons, and he felt sad at the thought of having to leave her, even for a short while.

"I called you here for a reason," he suddenly spoke, making her look back at him.

"I figured that," she responded.

"We wanted to say good-bye."

A smile crossed her dark lips, and as she finished her work on his left arm. "I'll see you both again." She walked back to the armor, and he followed her.

"I know. It's just that . . . it wouldn't feel right if I didn't."

She smiled even wider, as she stepped to his other side and fastened his armor there as well. He continued to observe her, suddenly wishing he would never have to leave that moment.

The fastening of his armor hadn't taken long enough. He now stood fully ready. He took his helmet off its stand, gazing at it for a long moment. Zuriel made her way over to the table in the far corner, which had his hand-and-a-half sword laid upon it. She took it over to him, then fastened it around his waist. She drew back afterward, eyeing him up and down.

"The Varden should tremble in your presence," she said, but her voice was neither amused nor joyful. She said it almost sorrowfully.

"They will," he replied with the same tone.

He took in one last breath, then stepped around her, making his way out onto the balcony. She followed him close by, and the two of them joined Thorn as he stood out there, gazing at the mass of soldiers that was gathered at the castle gates.

_It's time,_ Thorn said.

_I know._

The crimson dragon turned his gaze to Zuriel, and then snaked his head toward her. She took his face in her hands, softly kissing his nose as he spoke to her. But Murtagh paid no attention to their conversation. His gaze was still on the crowd of soldiers, but he was aware of their words, and when they ended, he turned to face Zuriel one last time. He smiled lifelessly to her and stepped to her once again. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her against him in a soft embrace. She wrapped her arms around him as well, resting her head momentarily on his shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered quietly in her ear, "for everything." He moved his face closer to her own, softly pressing his lip against her cheek. He withdrew afterward, standing up straight and composing himself.

She smiled to him, nodding her head in approval. "Good luck," she said, "I'll be here when you get back."

He nodded to her as well, before placing the helmet on his head. He turned his back on her, making his way over to Thorn and climbing onto his saddle. With on last look at the healer, the two of them leapt into the air, soaring off into the distance.

For the longest time, Zuriel stood there, watching the dragon circle in the sky as the soldiers began their march. She watched them all, unable to fathom their numbers and what their losses would be. She knew it would be inevitable for her to heal some.

Slowly, and reluctantly, she turned her back on the site. She would have to prepare for the casualties, and for her own successes and failures to come.

Her thoughts were with the young Rider and Dragon, hoping that when they returned, their wounds would not be too deep to heal.

_End_

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**A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and read this story. ^_^ I've enjoyed all your comments and input, every single one of them, constructive criticism and all. XD**

**I still don't know if I'm gonna do anything sequel-wise. I guess we'll all just have to wait and see. No guarantees.**

**I feel as if I should say something grand, but the words elude me. Ha ha!**

**Please review. Take care, God bless, etc. ^_^**

**-Endellion**


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: Hey people! So it's been over...two months (yikes!), but I finally got around to doing this epilogue, which someone suggested, and which I took my sweet time writing. lol**

**Yeah, it's just a little short...something. Hope you enjoy. lol**

**By the way, I've officially decided to do a sequel. I've been discussing this idea with my sister, and she thinks it sounds interesting, so I'm gonna write it. :) I'm gonna finish re-reading "Brisingr" first though. And I still have some details to work out. So it may be a while. But it's coming. XD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.**

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**Epilogue**

Zuriel slowly pushed the heavy wooden doors open, peeking inside before she dared to enter unbidden. She made her way inside, looking over the room that appeared unoccupied. But she knew this room wasn't empty, she could tell by the state it was in. Armour was scattered over the floor, forgotten-or thrown-into random piles. The metal was scratched and dented, a few drops of blood dried on the surface. For a moment, she stood over the breast plate, just staring at it.

Movement from her left caught her attention. She looked up as a young servant girl came scurrying into the main room. She was startled when she spotted Zuriel, and met eyes with the familiar healer. Zuriel could tell she was troubled, if not a bit frightened. But she said nothing, and continued till she had left the room entirely.

The noise of the doors shutting after her sounded strangely ominous.

Zuriel left the armour and made her way to the bedroom, finding it similarly vacant. Wind came in from the balcony, and outside she spotted Thorn. The red dragon's eyes were on her, conveying something though he didn't speak. She understood and left the bedroom, making her way into the next adjoining room.

Steam from the bathtub filled the air, making it warm and heavy. Murtagh was in the basin, his head back against the edge, his haunted eyes gazing upward at nothing. He knew Zuriel was there, mere meters away, but he didn't acknowledge her.

"Murtagh?"

"Leave me be," he responded simply, still not looking her direction.

She didn't know what to do, or even say. She couldn't imagine what he must be going through, but as was her nature, she wanted to help him.

"Leave!" he reiterated, emotion now coming through his words.

She reluctantly complied, turning away and instead walking to the balcony. Thorn greeted her with his gaze, his mood sullen like his Rider's, yet calm where he was not. The healer stepped to his side, laying a soft hand on his scales.

"Is he alright?" she asked.

_No,_ Thorn answered simply.

It was the truth. She hadn't expected him to answer any differently. And yet...

_I saw her,_ the dragon said. His eyes were to the sky, to the approaching storm in the distance. _I had seen her in Murtagh's mind before, but to see her in person...she was beautiful, and so fierce._

Zuriel knew he spoke of the other dragon Saphira. She could have almost sworn she saw him smiling. She knew what plans Galbatorix had for both dragons, and that if those plans were fulfilled, Thorn and Saphira would be the parents of a whole new generation of Riders.

_The Twins are dead,_ he announced suddenly.

She was taken by surprise.

She was relieved they were gone, but she could never bring herself to rejoice in anyone's passing, no matter how twisted they may be.

She ran her hand along Thorn's neck, and he inclined his head, enjoying it as she stroked him affectionately. He watched her, knowing where her thoughts and concerns remained.

_He'll need you later_, he said, _Give him some time._

Zuriel nodded, "I'm glad you both survived."

_And we're glad you were here to greet us when we returned. It is one thing we have to look forward to._

She smiled softly, though there was little joy in the gesture.

Thorn settled to the ground, comfortably laying on the warm stone. She hadn't noticed before, but he was tired. No matter how strong the king had made him, such a long flight would always be tiring. Zuriel lowered herself to the ground with him, remaining by his warm side. Even as the dragon fell asleep, and minutes passed by while she stared at the dark sky, she remained on the balcony, waiting for Murtagh.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. ^_^**


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